The Road Not Taken
by Mudstar4ever
Summary: Past and present converge in two parallel stories of intimate relationships. Forged amid a landscape of the longest war the Clans have ever witnessed, what lessons can the past carry over to the living? Can the Clans temper blood into unity? Set after A Vision of Shadows.
1. Chapter One - LION

_"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,"_

* * *

 **LION**

Eyes wide, teeth bared.

Hearts beating to the cadence of the war drums.

Blood of fire, spirit of sorrow.

Moral divergence.

* * *

He crouched low, hugging the earth. His muscles trembled with exertion. Perspiration soaked his hot, pulsating pelt, yet his blood ran cold beneath his skin.

One minute.

That was all the time he was allotting himself to rest. One minute on a battlefield where every second determined the fate of another. Whether another blow was scored too deep. Whether one's heartbeat was their last.

One minute.

A shrill cry pierced the air.

He winced. It was time.

With a strained grunt, he forced himself to his paws and emerged from behind the boulder he had taken refuge. Following the sounds of echoing caterwauling in the ravine below him, he lumbered clumsily amongst the rocks. His claws scrabbled painfully against the stone, disturbing his balance, plunging him into thick marsh.

This was not the land he was accustomed to. Not the land his paws had tread since he was a young kit, the land that had shaped his youth. These lands were scored by rivers and glades, the grounds soft and kissed by clusters of stone.

With startling force, he was thrust sideways, a body slamming into his flank. A deep-throated snarl sounded by his ear as claws sunk deep into his ribs. Letting out a yowl of pain, he rolled over to protect his belly; his attacker responded and quickly secured a position on top of his back, digging their teeth into his scruff. He let out a hiss of frustration. He judged the enemy warrior to be lesser in size than he, yet his strength was failing him. He writhed, scrabbling to get stable footing to shake off the warrior when the weight was suddenly lifted from his shoulders. He heard the warrior cry out in surprise, then their pawsteps retreating.

"Are you hurt?"

He quickly pushed himself to standing before his Clanmate could scrutinize him. "Fine," he growled, facing the dark warrior. "How's the front line?"

"We're falling back. Our defense has crumbled." she muttered in dismay.

He cursed under his breath. "They're pushing us back to the shore. Any farther and we'll be completely at their mercy."

He surveyed the battlegrounds before him. Countless figures were locked in fierce tussles. Screeches of agony and fury filled the space. It was clear who had the upper hand in this battle, as helpless warriors were driven toward the water. Faces were caked in mud and blood, fashioning masks of war. The disadvantaged warriors slithered and stumbled in the slick mud. The scent of fear was overpowering.

"You're hurt."

"They've siphoned us deeper into their territory. We're cut off from the east," he growled, yet he could feel his own blood seeping hot and sticky down his hind leg.

He flinched. A rush of blood seeped from his wound as she withdrew her paw.

"You need help."

He watched below as two warriors below him were closed in on by four others. His tail lashed with frustration. "We need to retreat, but they've restricted our access back to camp," he said, turning to his companion. "I need you to lead the charge and get everyone home. Go beyond the Horseplace and don't stop until you pass the Twolegplace."

She listened intently, claws flexing in anticipation. "What about you?"

"I'll take the rear. I'll try to divert them back to the west and open a course of retreat," he explained. "They're deliberately trying to confine us to their territory, so it'll be a narrow window if any."

She eyed his wounds warily. "I'll double-back for you."

"Only when everyone is already across. I'll do a final sweep on my way out, but try to get everyone out if you can."

She nodded and he turned back toward the battle, fur bristling as he braced himself. With a mighty leap, he thundered down the ravine. Utilizing momentum to his advantage, he tore through the group like a bullet, abruptly dividing the combat.

"Go!" he roared to his comrades. "Now! Go!"

With wild eyes and frustrated hisses, his Clanmates turned tail and fled, filing after the dark she-cat in a steady stream. The stockier enemy warriors sneered and snarled in response, but he was much more agile and capable of evading most attacks. He darted between scuffles, breaking them up and sending his warriors fleeing toward the moorlands, until he no longer recognized friendly faces. It was time to retreat.

A yowl of agony erupted from his throat as two warriors simultaneously ambushed him from below. The warrior was so accustomed to his eyes on the sky that he hadn't anticipated the river warriors' capabilities from below. They emerged from the marshy glades like muck monsters, hooking their claws into his legs and dragging him under. Contact to his open wound struck like a bolt of lightning – the edges of his vision streaked with shadows. His body suddenly weighed three times as heavy and his knees buckled into the sludge. Teeth and claws fastened into him from all sides. The two enemy warriors were reinforced. Thick mire water rushed his throat and he emerged, spluttering, lungs convulsing.

In a moment of terror, he realized his limbs had stopped responding to his thoughts. He crumpled, weighed down by warriors, into the mud. The sounds of chaos tapered out as darkness consumed him.


	2. Chapter Two - AMBER

_"And sorry I could not travel both"_

* * *

 **AMBER**

"You _missed!_ How could you miss it? It was right _there!_ "

She let out a huff of frustration as the trout darted away through the rocks. She withdrew her empty forepaw from the river, yielding nothing. "Maybe if you weren't such a loud furball, it would have stuck around long enough for me to catch it," she fired back.

"What, did you think it was going to swim right into your paws?" her denmate sneered from the bank, eyes dancing with mischief.

She opened her mouth to retort when her mentor stepped forward. "Amberpaw," he said calmly. "Don't be so impatient. This isn't your first time fishing."

Amberpaw pouted at the brown-and-ginger tom. "Stormpaw was harassing me!"

The stocky gray apprentice nearby let out an indignant cry.

But her mentor wasn't amused. "Why are you even letting him get to you? Hold yourself accountable."

Amberpaw scowled and shot Stormpaw a sharp look, though her eyes betrayed her amusement. The stocky tabby smirked and the two began to box playfully.

"Are you two kits or warrior apprentices?" her mentor growled. "I thought we were trying to get in a bit of training before the Gathering?"

The two apprentices sat up quickly, smoothing their fur, their heads bowed apologetically.

"Sorry, Sedgecreek…" they muttered in unison.

The mottled tom snorted. "Honestly, sometimes I feel like a queen in the nursery when I'm with you two."

Stormpaw's eyes glittered impishly at Amberpaw. "He'd make a pretty ugly queen," he whispered.

Sedgecreek narrowed his eyes. "That's enough. It's time to move on. We can't be late."

They promptly followed the older warrior, trying in vain to swallow their mirth. At multiple intervals, the stocky gray apprentice stuck out a paw to trip his denmate, only to have his balance thrown off in retaliation by a hip-check by the younger she-cat.

It was obvious to any cat who saw them – the two were the best of friends. Partners in crime, as many would describe. Their mentors were patient, but the companions needed to be reeled in from time to time. In this dark age of bitter war and division among the Clans, they needed to be prepared for the less innocuous landscape ahead.

Sedgecreek cast a stern glance over his shoulder and maintained his gaze ahead. Though he could not help but roll his eyes good-naturedly at their antics. The two were brimming with youth and he couldn't help but appreciate their optimistic outlook on life. His heart ached with longing for a more innocent time.

"Are you nervous?" Stormpaw asked as the Island came into view.

Amberpaw shook her head at the tom, two moons her senior. "Not at all," she said, eyes bright with excitement.

Despite being three moons into her warrior training, this would be her very first Gathering. Her first moon had been deemed too dangerous at the time between Clan relations for the newly appointed apprentice to attend. The following moon she had been bed-ridden with an infected thorn wound in her paw. Amberpaw was wild with impatience to meet the other Clans for the first time.

"Now, remember," Sedgecreek warned as they stood on the banks adjacent from the Gathering place. "Full moon aside, these cats are still your enemies. Despite what our ancestors decreed, it's likely you'll be greeted in a _less than cordial_ manner."

Amberpaw shivered.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sedgecreek."

Satisfied, the light mottled tom turned and slipped into the water, paddling with large paws across the lake toward the Island. The two apprentices followed, shuddering at the sudden onset of the cool waters. The surface was black as night, the night sky mirroring the seemingly impenetrable clouds above. Amberpaw savored the palliative effects of the water as her paws sculled through it. Her body glided forward like a vehicle of grace, a creature of the lake. She never felt more comfortable, more beautiful than she did when she was swimming. Yet tonight, as she propelled toward the meeting spot of the Clans, Amberpaw felt her chest tighten with anxious anticipatin.

Sedgecreek led them onto the banks and through the undergrowth, until they emerged into the clearing. Amberpaw's senses were suddenly arrested by a whirlwind of various scents.

Dozens of warriors from various Clans were scattered throughout the area. They stood in close clusters, mostly from within their own Clan. While the stories of the full moon truce had instilled a fantasy of mutual camaraderie in Amberpaw, tonight she detected nothing but hostility and resentment from the cats before her.

"It's still important to understand who your enemy is," Sedgecreek told them. "As long as you stay together and remain impartial, you should still make an effort to get to know others."

Amberpaw grimaced at the second mentioning of 'enemy.' Was the culture of the Clans really so toxic? She felt her heart sink with disappointment.

"Do you know anyone yet?" she asked Stormpaw. "Outside RiverClan, I mean."

"Oh sure. I know a bunch of warriors," Stormpaw boasted.

Amberpaw raised an eyebrow, skeptically. "Oh really. Who of your many friends should we talk to first, then?"

Stormpaw frowned thoughtfully and scanned the clearing.

"Come on. Let's go join Rowanheart," Stormpaw suggested.

Amberpaw smirked. "You mean the elder from our very own Clan? Wow – you really _are_ popular with the other Clans!"

Stormpaw flattened his ears. "More than you. Will you just shut your hole for a minute?" he sneered, cuffing her shoulder.

Amberpaw followed her denmate to where the ancient brown tom sat with four unfamiliar cats. Judging from their appearances, they all appeared to be elders as well.

"Ah, Stormpaw, Amberpaw. Welcome," the RiverClan senior rasped. "Sit, sit."

The two apprentices timidly eyed the group of elders. However, the golden queen closest to them offered them a warm smile.

"You two must be freezing," she croaked in a terribly rasping voice, hoarse with age. Her words were barely distinguishable. "Come, sit. Get warm and dry."

The two apprentices exchanged a glance and bought into the older queen's friendly tone. Amberpaw nervously faced the queen.

"Which Clan are you from?" she asked nervously.

"WindClan, dear," she rasped. "For now at least."

Amberpaw tilted her head curiously. "What do you mean?"

The elders flashed a range of bemused expressions, as though sharing an inside joke.

"Whispersong's already got one paw over the border with StarClan." Rowanheart teased.

The WindClan queen rolled her eyes at him. "Not yet anyway. You'll have to put up with me just a little bit longer."

"Oh, that's not too difficult," a dark speckled tom jumped in. "Whenever she starts to nag, it's pretty easy to tune out that inaudible rasp of hers."

Whispersong narrowed her eyes playfully at him. "You'll miss me someday, you know."

"Who says I won't go first?"

"When we all get to StarClan, will Whispersong get her original voice back? Or keep this one?"

"In other words, will we still be friends with you?"

Amberpaw felt herself relax a little, at ease around the elders teasing. This was how she had always imagined cross-Clan interactions would be. Her chest swelled with hope.

"Do you really think about that?" Amberpaw asked timidly. "Being in StarClan? Together, staying friends?"

One silver queen's eyes glittered excitedly. "Time has forged networks deeper than you can imagine. We're connected in ways that span beyond the boundaries that divide our Clans."

Amberpaw's heart gave a thrill of excitement.

"How can you say that, Seedwhisker? When our days are so plagued by all of this war and suffering?"

A black tom with an unsightly broken tail sniffed disdainfully. The light mood lessened considerably.

Rowanheart tried to smile at the two apprentices. "Don't mind that crank. Crookedtail has little faith in Clan alliances."

"What alliances?" Crookedtail narrowed his eyes. "When push comes to shove, friendships outside your Clan simply aren't meant to last."

The group fell silently for a beat.

"I agree it's difficult to forge friendships at the expense of Clan loyalty, but don't you think you're being a little cynical, Crookedtail?" one tom meowed.

"We're still bickering about battles won and lost from _countless_ moons ago." Crookedtail muttered. "And we all participated. Lost friends, family. Still carry those scars."

The other tom shrugged. "At this point in my life, I don't see the value in still getting hung up on the past. Leave that to the younger, stronger warriors to worry about."

Disheartened, Amberpaw glanced around the group. "Were the Clans always like this?" she dared ask. "Fighting, I mean?"

Some of their gazes softened remorsefully. "Well," Rowanheart began, "there have always been standard squabbling over petty little things like borders and prey. But truthfully… this is… something different." He said with a frown. "Never before have I seen such vicious combat day-after-day for so many seasons in a row."

"And once pride and survival come into play, it's difficult to forgive and forget," Crookedtail muttered. "Vicious cycle."

"Unfortunately, your generation has been condemned by faults that originated with us," Whispersong rasped.

"And the issue is that the longer this drags out, the more ingrained it becomes in the culture," Rowanheart said grimly. "With every passing day, there are less warriors alive that remember the Clans as they once were. The landscape of war is all you've ever known, it's second-nature to you. Tragic, but that's how societies evolve."

"Or in this case, _de_ volve," Crookedtail growled.

Amberpaw rested her gaze on Rowanheart, her heart sinking. As a kit, she spent her days in the elder's den, listening to the tales and legends of the four Clans, united as they were divided, and the pivotal moments when they would converge to lend a helping hand. When hard times fell and Clan boundaries dissolved. In the end, they were all the same. Clan affiliations meant little in the grand scheme of survival. The Clans had always existed on a bedrock of symbiosis.

But that time had passed.

"Thank you for your stories," Amberpaw mumbled, rising to her paws. "They were… very enlightening."

Stormpaw read her expression, then nodded. "Yes, thank you. It was nice seeing you all again."

The elders nodded and muttered their goodbyes as they slipped away.

"You just _had_ to ask," Stormpaw teased, half-heartedly.

But Amberpaw didn't smile. "Well, that was depressing."

"They're just a bunch of daft, old fools," he assured her with a nudge. "If I was sitting in my den all day, I'd be cynical too."

"I guess…"

But she could see truth resonating in their sentiment. She had spent moons romanticizing about a world where the Clans operated as allies in peace. She yearned to learn what knowledge others had harnessed, to share her own experiences with those unfamiliar to her capabilities. She dreamed of laughter and healthy competitiveness. Was the young apprentice so naïve to conceptualize such a fantasy?

Stormpaw's fur bristled suddenly. Amberpaw glanced at him. "What?"

Amberpaw followed his gaze, fixated across the clearing. Electric blue eyes leered back, belonging to a long and lean tabby tom. Deep resentment burned in the depths of the warrior's eyes, yet it seemed to venture beyond traditional cross-Clan rivalry. The intensity of his anger felt much more personal.

Amberpaw felt something stir deep within her. A thrill of fear in the pit of her stomach.

"What a creep," Stormpaw muttered.

Amberpaw studied the dark gray warrior from afar, watching as his lanky figure melted into the crowd. "Maybe he thought we were someone else."

Yet throughout the entire Gathering, she could feel eyes burning into her fur; when she glanced his way, he never made eye contact again.

 _What is his deal?_

By the end of the evening, Amberpaw felt emotionally drained. The Gathering, brief as it was, had been filled with tension and verbal abuse. The air was thick, like a storm about to break. Threats were made, vengeance declared, grim outlooks forecasted ahead.

Yet as she settled into her nest, what disturbed Amberpaw the most were the hostile, dark blue eyes from the other side of the clearing.


	3. Chapter Three - LEAF

_"And be one traveler, long I stood."_

* * *

 **LEAF**

She smelled them before she saw them.

The sickly-sweet stench hit her senses like a whirlwind. She would have gagged if she were not so accustomed to the scent of blood.

The earth shuddered as dozens of pawsteps approached the camp. Loud, raucous voices grew louder in proximity. The once-still air filled with hoarse coughs, the occasional grunt, and wayward gaits. With a sigh, she rose to her paws and emerged from her den to greet the warriors returning from combat.

Right away, she recognized a victory. The warriors before her chattered excitedly, jabbering like birds, their eyes bright, despite their haggard appearances. Beaten and bloody as they were, the rowdy group caterwauled triumphantly and romped around camp like overgrown kits.

The she-cat ignored their feverish mirth and stood patiently by, assessing the group as best as she could to determine which of the many patients before her would need to be attended to first.

A dark gray tom with a deep gash over his right eye thrust himself in her path. "We did it! We drove them off!" he breathed excitedly. "They fled for their lives with their tails between their legs!"

"Mmm," she mumbled distractedly, raising a forepaw to examine his cut, but was shrugged off as he raced away to share his wealth of good news. Typical boisterous warrior, high off of battle adrenaline.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, stepping toward a limping apprentice when the familiar long figure of her leader shouldered its way toward her, stopping her short. She opened her mouth to greet her, when something much more arresting caught her eye.

Behind their leader, two warriors dragged a seemingly lifeless body. The warrior was unrecognizable, his limbs dragging, fur caked in mud and blood. She instinctively lunged forward, but a nearby warrior cut her off with a hiss.

"You can't help _him,_ " he spat. "He's an enemy warrior!"

"I suggest you get out of my way," she said icily, shouldering the warrior aside. Her instincts screamed at her to treat any injured cat in her line of sight.

The two warriors stepped aside as she crouched over the limp body, assessing the damage before her.

"Leafdew."

Nearby, her leader murmured in a low voice. "Take him to your den, quickly," she said. "Save him if you can, but at no expense to anything or any _one_ that is more valuable to us."

Leafdew scowled, disturbed by her leader's words before grabbing hold of the warrior's scruff and dragging him toward the direction of her den. The weight lightened suddenly as one of Clanmates accepted part of the burden. She blinked gratefully and together they settled the wounded warrior into a nest. The cry of their leader outside sent the warrior back out into the clearing. Leafdew ignored the gathering call, tending to the warrior as needed, but listened intently.

It took several attempts to silence the crowd, but finally their leader's voice could be heard.

"That's enough," she meowed loudly. "As you have all learned by now, we did, in fact, claim victory tonight in the battle against WindClan."

She allowed for a pause for her warriors to let out caterwauls of triumph before continuing. Leafdew began the tedious process of cleaning away the grime from the warrior.

"However, tonight, I present a topic of debate for us to consider," their leader continued. "As you can may have noticed, tonight we return with a WindClan warrior, a prisoner in our midst."

The warriors began to murmur amongst themselves, but their leader promptly raised her voice. "But not just _any_ warrior. The WindClan deputy himself!"

Leafdew flinched at this news. _The deputy?_

The uproar of voices from the Clan seemed distant to her as the medicine cat carefully peered into the bloody face of the unconscious warrior before her, his features barely distinguishable beneath a thick layer of blood ad grime. But there was no doubt about it. Though they had never spoken directly, she recognized the muscular, stocky frame of the flaxen tomcat before her. He was undeniably the WindClan deputy.

"Lionpath," Leafdew whispered in shock.

Her head spun. She had never cared for an enemy warrior before, let alone the second-in-command of another Clan. Outside, she tuned into the latter half of the discussion. The majority had come to a consensus about agreeing to hold the deputy here under ransom as their Prisoner Of War, but were outraged at the notion of his wounds being treated.

"Why should we waste valuable resources?"

"We need all of the herbs we have!"

"Our warriors need them more!"

"Why should he be given any care at all?

" _Enough!_ " their leader yowled, silencing the squabble. She turned her deputy. "Nightstorm?"

The gray-and-black senior warrior stepped forward. "I think we need try to understand the potential value. Consider this: we neglect to treat Lionpath's wounds and he dies under our care. Now we face a judgement by WindClan far greater than his life simply being lost in combat. He fails to die a proper warrior's death. He is essentially murdered in StarClan's eyes."

The Clan is silent as they weigh their deputy's words. Leafdew lingers by the entrance of her den, distracted by the debate.

"He dies, WindClan elects a new deputy, and the fighting carries on as before. Nothing changes. _But_ ," she pauses for effect, eyes narrowed. "say we keep him here. _Alive._ Then we hold something over WindClan. We have hostage negotiation rights. They're at our mercy so long as he is in our possession."

Fervent discussions broke out among the crowd as they considered this. Their leader's eyes narrowed critically as she watched her Clanmates slowly come to an agreement.

Leafdew suddenly felt a chill run down her back and she turned. Two deep amber eyes burned like brands of tawny flame.

He was awake.

Leafdew struggled to read his expression. He was weak; he nary moved his head an inch, glued to the ground as though pinned down by some invisible force. His body was broken, but his spirit burned bright. He was angry, there was no doubt about it. He eyed her warily, his features dark with pain and fatigue.

Leafdew recomposed herself. "What hurts?"

"My pride." The tomcat growled.

The light brown tabby healer's whiskers twitched, but she did not smile. "Well, I can't do anything about that."

She stepped forward and continued to sift away the mud and blood to better identify his condition. The enormous tomcat fell silent and she wondered if he had fallen unconscious again when he suddenly reared back in agony. He stifled a yowl through clenched jaws, his muscles taut with pain.

"Okay, okay," Leafdew soothed. "Let me see."

She gently moved his leg aside, revealing a deep gouge in the soft tissue where his hip connected with his underbelly. Through the caked mud she could see the raw muscle fibers and pulsating blood. She felt a thrill of panic at the sight of the deep laceration and a familiar prickle of doubt at her capabilities. With a shake of resolve, she turned toward her herb stores and pressed the thick moss to his wound. Meanwhile, she chewed a poultice vigorously. The bitter juices scorched her tongue, but she spit out enough large wads to cover the surface area of his wounds.

"This will sting," she warned, gently placing the poultice on his gash.

A long hiss of pain escaped through his teeth. He flexed his muscles to brace the pain, causing the blood to flow more forcefully.

"Relax," Leafdew instructed. "I'm a medicine cat, not a warrior. Please _don't_ try to tough it out. I need you to stay relaxed."

She carefully wrapped the wound in dried oak leaf and bound it with rush. She turned back to her store and pulled out a harsh-smelling leaf.

"If you can, try to choke this down," she said turning back to her patient. "It will give you strength–"

But the golden spotted tom had already slipped back into unconsciousness. Leafdew sighed and set the herbs aside for later.

"Will he live?"

Leafdew didn't even look up as her leader stepped into the threshold. "His wounds are severe, but at the moment he's stable."

Her leader pursed her lips. "Good. Use the bare minimum of your stores, if you can. We don't want to build him up stronger than he was before."

Leafdew scowled. "No risk of that."

Her leader watched in silence, noting with fascination and pride as she watched the meticulous healer. Leafdew could feel her leader's gaze appraising her. She wondered if she would say something – a critical remark, a note of pride.

But when she looked up, her leader was gone.

* * *

Four days passed and the WindClan deputy hadn't woken since that brief initial encounter. Leafdew was beginning to fret for his nourishment, for the nutrients she forced into his system simply weren't sustainable. He would need to feed independently.

On the fifth morning, Leafdew awoke and immediately ran through her mental checklist for the day. She would clean and tend to the wounds of her warriors like before, noting who would be more likely to return to the front line the soonest and who would most certainly need to stay behind. She was just raising into a sitting position when she was met with the same burning amber eyes.

Leafdew couldn't suppress the relief in her voice. "You're awake."

Lionpath eyed her warily. "You're the RiverClan medicine cat?"

"Correct."

The tomcat frowned. "So I really am in the RiverClan camp."

It was impossible not to detect the dismay in his voice. "I understand this must be difficult for you," she said sympathetically.

"I'm a prisoner of war," Lionpath growled, his lip curling in disgust.

Leafdew said nothing. His words were laced with bittnerness.

"What will my Clan think? When I don't come home?"

Leafdew frowned. "Well, I imagine they know by now. You've been out for nearly five days."

Shock registered on the WindClan deputy's expression, then darkened with anger. "You can't keep me here. I'm going home!" The stocky tomcat made a move to toward his feet, but his paws couldn't bear his weight and he collapsed heavily.

"Stop!" Leafdew cried, lunging toward him. "You'll reopen your wounds."

But the golden Bengal's eyes were glazed over with pain, his limbs visibly trembling.

"Just keep still," Leafdew murmured calmly, but the WindClan deputy wasn't having it.

Lionpath unsheathed his claws threateningly. "You can't keep me here."

Leafdew turned her back on him, returning to her herb stores. "Do whatever you want," she said briskly. "It's not my job to stop you. But don't expect me to waste anymore of my herbs, just so you can satisfy your arrogant warrior pride. You won't make it two steps outside this den."

Lionpath blinked, riddled with surprise. "I don't understand," he growled. "Why didn't they just kill me?"

Leafdew frowned, but did not reply.

"Why go to all this trouble to treat my wounds? Why not just let me die?"

"I'm not one to try and analyze war tactics," she said drily. "I fail to recognize the merit."

Suddenly, the unmistakably long figure of the RiverClan leader stepped into the den.

"Welcome back," she said curtly. "Sleep well?"

A low growl bubbled in Lionpath's throat, but his civility outweighed his anger. "Morningstar," Lionpath greeted with frosty politeness. "With all due respect, the minute I'm strong enough to stand, I'm doing everything I can to go back to my Clan."

"I don't doubt that for a second," Morningstar said with a wry smile. "But you're quite a ways off from that day." She studied his wounds critically. "I just thought you should know, I sent a few of my warriors to intercept one of your patrols. WindClan is well informed of the current situation."

Lionpath's tail jerked. "I wouldn't sound so self-assured," he warned. "Harestar will conduct a recovery operation to retrieve me."

"Harestar has been faring on the more conservative side as of late," Morningstar said, circling him curiously. "I imagine he can't have more than but one or two more lives left. I think he will be feeling less inclined to risk his warriors' lives to fetch their deputy in such a vulnerable state."

Lionpath blinked, stunned into silence. Morningstar smiled.

"Rest assured, you will be safe here. You may not be at your strongest," she said coolly, turning to leave the den, "but you'll be alive."


	4. Chapter Four - JAY

_"Then took the other, as just as fair,_

 _And having perhaps the better claim,"_

* * *

 **JAY**

He was in a foul mood.

The Gathering was no different than any other. Words were said, threats were made, and the semblance of a "truce" they pretended to uphold crumbled before their very eyes. The sky opened up and sheets of icy rain drove the quarreling cats from the Island, paws scrabbling on the slippery trunk as they fled. The WindClan warriors led the stride, escaping the hostile gazes of their enemies by way of their swift feet.

Days had passed and the rain had still not let up. It seemed as though all of WindClan were seeking refuge in their dens, not daring to step out into the storm unless deemed absolutely necessary. Those that were normally the first to volunteer for patrols now slouched in their beds, pretending to be asleep, desperate not to be called upon.

"Jaytalon."

He glanced up to see the wiry figure of his deputy slinking through the rain toward him.

"I need you to lead a hunting patrol," she said, ducking into the warriors' den. Direct as always.

Jaytalon peered outside then looked back at her skeptically.

She raised her eyes at him. "Problem?"

"It's a little wet out there."

She shrugged at him. "Fine. Then you should be more than willing to sacrifice your next two meals to better ration what's left of the fresh-kill pile."

Jaytalon rolled his eyes and reluctantly rose to his paws. "For crying out loud." Flattening his ears against his head, he stepped out into the rain. Immediately, icy sheets penetrated his coat, plastering his fur to his skin.

His deputy smirked at him good-naturedly. "Who will you bring?"

Jaytalon scanned the den; his Clanmates actively avoided eye contact or rolled over away from them. "Greenstorm, Gorsefire, and..." he called as they moaned in protest. He then turned back to his deputy. "Deerspring, will you join us?"

The long-limbed WindClan deputy nodded. The two tomcats grudgingly padded out of the warmth of the warriors' den and trudged next to them. "Mind if I bring Thistlepaw? He could use the practice," Gorsefire asked.

Jaytalon flicked his ear against a particularly large raindrop. "Yes, but hurry. I want to get this over with."

By the time the long-haired apprentice joined the group, Jaytalon and the other warriors were completely soaked to the bone. The lanky gray tabby shook out his fur, but to no avail. He led the patrol out of the camp and deep into the moorlands. It was a challenge to see when their vision was so impaired, but Jaytalon's heart ached with desire. He missed the days when the sky was clear and the earth beneath his paws was dry and firm. His skin crawled impatiently; the dark-striped warrior was not one to sit around all day. He was an active warrior, one who favored his solitary hunts.

Jaytalon had not been a warrior for long. Less than two moons ago he stood beneath the Highcliff, basking in the glory of his warrior name echoing in the gulch as his leader declared his rank to StarClan. A deep satisfaction stirred within him that day. The tomcat could be cynical at times, but his fierce loyalty to the Clan never wavered. It was the one thing he treasured most in his life. The thing he deemed most important.

Greenstorm stepped close to his ear, startling him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing out here. All the prey will be cooped up in their burrows in this weather," the white tom shouted over the thundering of the rain against the moorlands. "Our best bet would be the woods."

Jaytalon studied the senior warrior's face, thoughtfully. "By the border?"

"I agree," Gorsefire chimed in loudly. "I can't smell a thing out here."

"There's too much mud!" Thistlepaw yowled in frustration, his long fur plastered to his skin. The young apprentice shivered with the cold.

"The shelter will be much appreciated," Deerspring added. "Newleaf is not yet upon us. The last thing we need is to bring back a whitecough outbreak."

Jaytalon nodded and gestured for the patrol to follow. Their paws slogged through the thick mud, eyes narrowed against the barrage of raindrops. The group finally made it the thin strip of forest that their territory allowed, their paws skidding. They could hear the roaring of the river nearby.

"I can't scent RiverClan at all," Thistlepaw grumbled.

"The rain is too dense," Gorsefire reassured him.

"That or they can't be bothered," Deerspring pointed out. "If we didn't need fresh-kill so desperately, I would rather everyone stayed warm and dry in their dens."

But Jaytalon's gaze was fixated on the other side of the river. "Don't hold your breath," he growled in a low voice.

Just beyond the Horseplace, where its hooved residents slouched watching them through long eyes, two figures lumbered full-speed toward them. They were muscular and well-defined, but lean. They appeared unbothered by the excessive moisture. The WindClan patrol waited for them to notice the border and slow to a halt, but their pace never tapered. Suddenly, a rabbit sped past Jaytalon. He blinked in shock, then turned around with a yowl, but Greenstorm had already closed the distance in a heartbeat, snagging the gangly body and ending its life with a quick nip to its throat. Thistlepaw let out a cry of triumph.

" _Hey!_ "

The group whipped around. Two young RiverClan warriors, likely apprentices, stood panting before them, the rain repelling off of their slick fur like duck feathers. They regained their breath almost immediately; like WindClan cats, they withheld miraculous levels of stamina.

"Thank you for stepping in and helping us out, but we'd appreciate if you could hand over our fresh-kill now," Stormpaw said in a faux-sweet voice.

"I believe you are on _our_ side of the border," Deerspring said calmly. "Any prey killed on our land belongs to WindClan."

Stormpaw's ears flattened against his head. "But we've been hunting that rabbit all afternoon!"

"Tough luck, fish-face." Thistlepaw spat, his tail lashing.

Gorsefire shot him a warning glance.

"WindClan delivered the killing blow," Gorsefire pointed out. "Therefore, the fresh-kill is ours to take."

"But we did all of the work!" Amberpaw cried in dismay.

"May I emphasize," Deerspring growled. "You are on WindClan territory now."

"Trespassers!" Thistlepaw hissed.

Deerspring peered curiously at Jaytalon. His expression was difficult to read, but his muscles were taut, eyes dark with an emotion she couldn't detect. She scowled at him, then returned her attention to the two apprentices.

"We're not leaving without our kill!" Amberpaw cried obstinately.

"It's _WindClan's_ kill," Thistlepaw growled.

" _We_ hunted it!" Stormpaw spat.

"I suggest you leave our territory at once," Deerspring stated with finality.

Stormpaw muttered darkly under his breath, turning and stalking back toward RiverClan territory. Amberpaw cast a fleeting dismayed glance back at the patrol before following her Clanmate in pursuit.

Thunder rumbled menacingly above them. No cat spoke a word the entire way back to camp. Jaytalon focused his gaze ahead of him, his foul mood intensifying. Despite the freezing rain, heat burned fiercely beneath his skin. He could barely swallow, his heart pulsated in his throat. Upon their return back to camp, Jaytalon made a move toward the warriors' den when Deerspring halted him with a sharp flick of her tail.

"May I have a word?"

Jaytalon scowled, but followed her to the hickory tree that overlooked their camp. It did little in the way of sheltering them from the rain, but was secluded enough to speak.

Deerspring folded her long legs beneath her, tucking her tail neatly around her paws. "You disappeared on me, Jay."

Jaytalon snorted disdainfully.

"I understand," Deerspring said quietly. "You have deeply entrenched bias against RiverClan."

"Don't patronize me, please..."

"I'm _not_ patronizing you," she said sharply. "I'm concerned about you."

"Don't be," Jaytalon growled.

Deerspring sighed in frustration. "We've all lost loved ones in this war," she murmured. "But learn to manage your emotions. Translate them to something productive, not incendiary. It's not healthy to let things fester like you do."

"Oh _I_ let things fester? Because you're the most expressive cat I've ever met."

"Enough," Deerspring said sharply. "You know what I'm talking about. We needed you to weigh in and defend your Clanmates, but you were completely checked out." She sighed. "All I'm saying is – just know when to keep your emotions in check. Don't let them blind your logic."

And with a final lash of her tail, Jaytalon watched his former mentor trek back down into the camp. He scowled at the desolate camp. He deeply respected Deerspring; she was a tough warrior. Fierce, austere, yet altruistic. She was the most selfless cat Jaytalon had ever known – almost to an extreme degree. She would make a fine leader one day, but she would never fully understand the extent of his personal resentment against RiverClan.

"Sounds like somebody's in hot water."

Jaytalon flinched,; a familiar white-and-silver tabby padded toward him, her light lemon eyes bright with amusement.

"Mouse-dung, Whitepaw…"

"So what'd you do?" she teased, her tail flicking.

Jaytalon shook his head. "Just Deerspring being overbearing as per usual."

"You don't mean that," she said warmly, sitting down beside him. The small she-cat looked dwarfed next to Jaytalon's long, lanky body. "Deerspring loves you."

"I'm not her kit." he mumbled resentfully.

He regretted it the instant he said it. It was an unspoken, yet well-known fact that Deerspring had never been able to bear kits. There were several speculations as to why, all of them revolving around her intense commitment to serving her Clan. She refused to eat or sleep until every other warrior was fed and safe. She was rather malnourished and sleep-deprived and would volunteer for every patrol or battle team if she could. In this constant state of physical stress, Deerspring was strong-spirited but generally unwell. Rendered incapable of bearing kits, she strived to fill the void by serving her Clan to the best of her ability, perpetuating the issue even more in some ways. Yet she invested heavily in the training of the Clan's young and was highly revered by her Clanmates.

"She knows you better than anyone," Whitepaw murmured. "Probably even better than you know yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It _means_ you should trust her." Whitepaw smiled softly. "Furball."

She flicked him affectionately with her tail, but he recoiled away from her touch. Disheartened, the younger she-cat rose to her paws.

"You can't live a life of solitude in a Clan," she said with a tinge of sadness to her voice. "You're either a loner or a warrior. You can't have it both ways."

"I've devoted everything to serving this Clan," Jaytalon mumbled.

"But the foundation of the Clan is built upon trust," Whitepaw said quietly. "We're hard-wired to support one another. It's in our nature."

Jaytalon scowled at her, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

"It's one thing if people can depend on you, but if you don't let yourself depend on them, you'll never tap into that network of support that keeps us all alive."

Jaytalon watched her leave, regret weighing heavily on his heart. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the dark clouds for a heartbeat. Jaytalon's gaze turned to the storm. He sat, his silhouette stoic against the dark sky, letting the cold sink into his bones. He craved companionship, but lacked the capability to let himself open up.

Suddenly, lightning illuminated the sky, outlining a beast-like shape in the cloud Jaytalon's gaze was fixated on. His fur bristled in alarm at the sight. _Is that…?_

As if in response, thunder roared like a wild creature of the night, sending shudders down Jaytalon's spine.

"You're wrong..." he muttered under his breath, casting his gaze away.

His heart, plagued by vengeance, gave a sharp pang of regret. But Jaytalon rose to his paws and turned his back on the sky.


	5. Chapter Five - LION

_"And looked down one as far as I could"_

 **LION**

A quarter moon passed and infection had set in. Lionpath's hind leg was pulsing and inflamed; heat coursed through his aching body. Despite her best efforts, Leafdew was having difficulty treating the WindClan deputy. This was partly due to the nature of the wounds; they were so deep that they rendered him immobile. And Leafdew knew that sedentary cats were doomed cats.

The broad-shouldered tom watched the medicine cat with weary, feverish eyes. In his state, Lionpath focused his attention on the swift and meticulous way Leafdew moved in her den. It was a grace reserved for a healing presence such as herself. Unlike the warriors he interacted with on a daily basis, Leafdew was slender and petite, lacking the muscle mass of a well-trained warrior. Though WindClan were typically lankier than the other Clans, Leafdew was especially lean, compared to the brawny builds of the warriors he was accustomed to. Even the she-cats were athletic, something he had always felt attracted to, but there was something arresting about Leafdew's inherently gentle nature.

Leafdew caught his eye and blinked. "What?"

Lionpath gave his head shake. "Nothing," he rasped. "You just… move differently."

She flushed under his gaze and looked away. He wasn't really making sense, but she chalked it up to infection. She disappeared into the back of her herb store; she could feel his amber eyes burning into her fur. It made her skin crawl. Most warriors never bothered her for long. They slipped in and out of her den as needed, mumbling thank-you's, expending her services before jumping back into the fray, then landing right back into her den with a new injury. A vicious cycle that Leafdew scorned, but mostly she appreciated the solitude. The WindClan's deputy silent fascination with her daily routine made her uneasy. She could almost hear his thoughts buzzing in his head, clamoring to be heard. And yet for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

Just then, a warrior stepped onto the veranda of the den. In his jaws, he released a scrawny water vole and a fat trout. Lionpath's stomach gave a weak rumble of desire. "Here, Leafdew," the brown tom said in a deep voice. "Courtesy of the morning patrol."

"Thank you, Mudmask," Leafdew said, emerging from her stores. She paused as she inspected the kill. "That's all he's getting? He needs more than a tiny morsel of vole."

"He's lucky to be getting any of our fresh-kill at all," he growled, his lips curling into a sneer as he glared at their prisoner.

"He's losing enough weight as it is," Leafdew stated coolly. "Go back and get him a proper fill."

"Not a chance!"

"It's Greenleaf, the rivers are teeming. We have plenty to spare."

"Not on my life!" Mudmask snapped. "The guy could stand to lose some muscle mass. It's not your job to make him stronger, Leafdew. You have your orders. Just keep him alive!"

"And I'm barely doing that, if he doesn't have the strength to sustain treatment. If he dies because we neglected to feed him, then I'm just wasting my herbs on him," Leafdew pointed out drily. "I don't need you reminding me of my duties, Mudmask."

"I love you, Leafdew, but I'm not coughing up anymore fresh-kill for the likes of _him._ " Mudmask spat, shooting Lionpath one last glare before he left.

Leafdew watched him go with a sigh. Lionpath eyed her curiously. "You don't seem to carry much respect around here," he said thoughtfully.

Leafdew turned her back on the kill and returned to her sorting duties. "That's not true," she said. "My Clanmates are very proud, loyal warriors. They don't tolerate the thought of sacrificing their resources for enemies. Not when they believe their loved ones could be using them instead."

"I know the feeling," Lionpath muttered.

Leafdew's expression softened. "I know you're frustrated," she sighed. "And I'm sorry. Truly, I am." She held his gaze for a moment longer, then returned to her busy work. "I don't condone wars. I think it's all meaningless in the grand scheme of things."

Lionpath's stomach gave another nauseating thrust. "But don't you feel like if you yourself were on the battlefield, you would feel inclined to fight behalf of those you care about?"

Leafdew looked up at him, weighing her words carefully. "Don't misunderstand," she said. "I also feel a fierce burning desire to protect my loved ones. But unlike you, I don't feed that fire in combat."

Lionpath blinked thoughtfully, but he couldn't swallow the rush of adrenaline in his veins at the thought of battle. "Maybe we do perpetuate the drama a little bit," he admitted. "And honestly, I admire your ability to file away your anger in such a productive manner," he paused, an emotional light tinging his gaze. "But when you spend day-after-day training alongside your companions, pushing one another, watching each other grow…You celebrate the victories and persevere through your setbacks. Together, you make each other stronger. You're fighting for a legacy, the Clanmates who have come before you and for the Clanmates that will come long after you've joined the ranks of StarClan..." Lionpath trailed off, then his voice hardened. "You can't help but reinforce that faith that this war safeguards the futures of our loved ones."

Leafdew eyed him, musingly. Lionpath's words were clear, fresh grief darkening his amber gaze. "But when you go out and avenge your Clanmates, you take the life of another. And the cycle perpetuates."

Lionpath shakes his head emphatically. "Never," he growled. "I would never take the life of another warrior intentionally. That's not only against the warrior code, but against my own personal principles."

Leafdew held his intense gaze for several heartbeats. Lionpath felt tension ease from his shoulders. For an enemy Clan medicine cat, he found the young queen to be trustworthy. But perhaps his trust in her was misplaced, his judgement swimming in his muddled brain.

Lionpath unsheathed his claws in frustration. "I just can't lie here and do nothing," he hissed. "Not when my family is out there, fighting at the front line."

Leafdew frowned. "Your family," she echoed. "Do you have kits?"

"Two," Lionpath rumbled warmly, his eyes softening with pride. "Two sons. Just beginning their warrior training."

Leafdew appeared thoughtful, trying to envision the two young toms. She wondered if she would see them at the next Gathering. Would they also be brawny, strapping lads? Would they have their father's blazing amber eyes? His rumbling, authoritative voice?

"If they're only newly appointed apprentices, you need not worry they would be out in combat," she pointed out lightly.

Lionpath felt something stir deep within him. "I always worry about my sons."

The medicine cat studied him musingly. A low, anemic moan sounded from Lionpath's stomach once more. He honestly didn't know if he was starving or going to be sick.

"Eat," Leafdew instructed, indicating toward the fresh-kill, as she turned her back on him once more.

Lionpath eyed the gaunt vole distastefully, but his overwhelming hunger won out. With a grunt, he stretched forward, biting his tongue through the sharp waves of pain until he hooked the kill with a claw and devoured it in two large bites. The vole did little to quell his hunger pangs; in fact, they seemed to intensify them even more. His rapidly depleting energy stores cried out like a ravenous beast, vying for more, imploring for compensation. Lionpath closed his eyes to compose himself.

"All of it."

Lionpath opened his eyes. The slender tabby queen was gesturing toward the second piece of fresh-kill. He eyed the stout, oily fish with a renewed sense of interest. Ignoring the rush of saliva in his jaws, he shook his head. "That's yours."

Leafdew shrugged with a dismissive flick of her tail. "The afternoon patrol brings me more before they turn in for the evening."

Lionpath blinked in surprise. The slim medicine cat was fed _two_ of these hefty trout every day? It nearly half as large as she was. But after a few seconds of decision, he arched forward and sniffed the kill tentatively. The broad-shouldered tom had been brought up on rabbits and other fast-moving prey. Never in his life had he tasted a fish.

The smell was nauseating, but when he plunged his jaws into the fatty flesh of the fish, alarm bells sounded in his head. It wasn't a particularly pleasant taste, nor could he get past the gummy consistency of it, but the meat was so satisfying and so filling that he could almost feel his cells crying out in joy. No wonder RiverClan cats were so lean and robust. Their coats were sleek; their bodies strong. For the amount of physical exertion they endured on a daily basis, the fish were the only prey with enough nutritional value to sustain them. And Lionpath could suddenly understand why there was such famine when the rivers were polluted or dried up. These warriors' lives literally depended on the river.

Before he knew it, Lionpath had stripped the entire carcass of its meat. He licked his lips, perfectly satiated. He caught Leafdew's eye and she smiled at him.

"Well done," she purred softly. "This will make a huge impact on your recovery." She hooked the carcass with her claw and cleared it away from him.

Lionpath's eyes blinked drowsily. Yet as he lie in his bed, he couldn't help but continue to watch the dainty medicine cat work. Warriors came and went, thanking her as she treated their ugly battle scars, then limped out of her den with obvious intent to return to combat. For the first time in his life, Lionpath felt disgusted by the morals of a warrior. Leafdew doted over her Clanmates with nary a complaint, treating each and every member with warm affection and gentle application.

Morningstar visited several times throughout the day, checking in on Leafdew's patients, asking for status reports. Lionpath was shocked to see how much their leader relied on her medicine cat. He thought of his own Clan's medicine cat and realized that he had never really considered a medicine cat as a high rank in his Clan. As deputy, he thought leadership lay in the path to getting nine lives. But now, he started to value the insights the healers provided. An entirely different perspective.

Morningstar was cool and clinical around Leafdew. Lionpath sat disconnected from the situation, yet he couldn't help but detect a slight frostiness between the two. There appeared to be suppressed emotions under their professional demeanors. Especially, after hearing her thoughts on war, Lionpath was surprised at Leafdew's lack of expression to share such opinions with her leader. It appeared these words were reserved for their personal conversation alone.

By the time moonhigh arrived, Leafdew had finished with her last patient and had considerately changed out his bandages before settling into her own nest. Lionpath watched through heavy eyelids as the slender tabby fell asleep, suppressing renewed admiration for the RiverClan medicine cat's position. It was only after his eyes had closed and he began to surrender to slumber that he realized that Mudmask had never returned to the den with a second round of fresh-kill.


	6. Chapter Six - AMBER

_"To where it bent in the undergrowth;"_

* * *

 **AMBER**

The wind howled in her ears as she tore through the forest, a blurred streak of emotion.

 _"You need to think for more than just yourself."_

Her paws drummed the earth, tears flowing freely down her face in hot streams of frustration. Anger drove her limbs to move, but her leader's voice still needled her at the back of her head.

 _"With every decision you make, think about how the consequences of your actions impact your Clanmates."_

Amberpaw found herself screeching to a halt at the lakeshore. She breathed heavily, her paws sinking into the sand, and gazed at the surface of the water resentfully. Her anger and furious burst of energy were receding but she wasn't ready to go back yet.

 _"You know better, Amberpaw. Use your head."_

Drawing a resolving breath, Amberpaw impulsively plunged into the depths of the lake. The shock of the cold water ignited her furious energy once more. With every wave that threatened to push her back, anger surged through the golden apprentice and she pushed forward, steadfast and irate. The clouds opened up and rain drummed her head from above, whipping up the waves long after she crossed into the deeper part of the lake.

 _At the back of her den, atop a bed of peaty moss sat the regal figure of the RiverClan leader. She sat tall with her tail curled neatly around her paws, the ancient splash of gray on her muzzle the only thing that betrayed her age._

 _"You wanted to see me?" Amberpaw said in a small voice._

 _The RiverClan warrior eyed her critically. "Sedgecreek informed me that you were caught by a ShadowClan patrol this morning."_

 _Amberpaw blinked indignantly. "But I wasn't trespassing!"_

 _Morningstar narrowed her eyes. "Why were you even that close to the border?"  
"I was training!"_

 _"By yourself?"_

 _"I like to get in a little extra practice," Amberpaw said innocently._

 _"And it was necessary to get in this extra training so near enemy borders?" Morningstar shook her head, disapprovingly. "What were you thinking, Amberpaw?"_

 _Amberpaw flinched. "I-I didn't mean… I mean, I didn't intend to veer so close to the border. I was just running and I got caught up––"_

 _"Honestly, Amberpaw," the RiverClan leader chastised. "Use your head. What would we have done if you had been attacked? The dawn patrol had already made its rounds. There would have been no one around to come rescue you."_

 _"I don't think they would have attacked me…" Amberpaw mumbled hotly, studying her paws._

 _"I'm sorry?"_

 _Amberpaw winced at the coldness in her leader's voice. "I just–– I mean… ShadowClan are still honorable warriors. They would never gang up on me like that."_

 _"Never make such assumptions, Amberpaw. We're in a war. Such notions could cost you your life."_

 _"I don't believe they would kill me," Amberpaw said with a frown._

 _Morningstar narrowed her eyes. "Maybe not," she said grimly. "But they could hold you hostage for ransom. And then what? You leave your Clanmates vulnerable. And this isn't the first time I've caught news of your nose in other Clan affairs. You and Stormpaw were found on WindClan territory just a few sunrises ago!"_

 _Amberpaw's gaze dropped, unable to meet her leader's eyes. Her cheeks flushed and burned with humiliation. She wanted nothing more than to shrink into the ground and disappear. "I'm sorry," Amberpaw said in a small voice, willing the patronizing to end._

 _"Don't be sorry," Morningstar said sharply. "Be cognizant of your actions."_

 _Amberpaw gazed despondently at her leader, trying to catch her eye and demonstrate her remorse, but Morningstar stared brazenly back. Her expression spoke volumes. Amberpaw dipped her head and ducked out of the den. Her heart hammered in her chest as she scrabbled down the Great Willow, her face hot, throat tight. Her eyes stung, threatening tears. A fierce desire to flee struck her; she hit the ground and her paws found momentum, beelining toward the entrance to the camp._

 _"Hey!" a voice cried. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"_

 _Amberpaw pushed past a startled Stormpaw, ducking her head so he couldn't see her face. She slipped through the gorse undergrowth and took off._

Thunder growled low in the mountains nearby. A thrill of fear struck through her chest and her surge of frustration and self-loathing tapered away. Raindrops rhythmically drummed against her pelt as she swam; she could feel herself relaxing, a sense of calm settling within her even as the water grew tumultuous around her.

 _Why is she always so hard on me?_ Amberpaw thought bitterly.

Morningstar had always been particularly stern with her and Amberpaw could never understand why. She was a strict, unyielding leader, her austere ways reinforced by seasons of governance. The RiverClan leader was extremely well-respected by all of the Clans, despite her reputation for not always being agreeable. She was fiercely loyal to her Clan and notorious for having a sharp tongue. Even the most rebellious of apprentices gradually developed deep loyalty to the RiverClan leader.

Morningstar kept a very close eye on Amberpaw and she was never able to get away with anything. She rarely articulated it, except occasionally to Stormpaw, but Morningstar seemed to hold Amberpaw to a much higher standard than her Clanmates. It seemed as though she could never do anything right and it frustrated her to no end.

Amberpaw was loyal and eager-to-please. To say it was disheartening to constantly let down your leader was an understatement. She strived for perfectionism and was sensitive to criticism. Morningstar's lack of positive reinforcement took its toll on the RiverClan apprentice. And so she ferreted away her spare time to hone her skills.

While her mentor favored the afternoons for training, Amberpaw came alive in the early dawn mornings, just as the first rays of the sun peeked over the mountaintops. She slipped out of the camp, usually alone. Be it solitary hunts, an exhilarating run, a daybreak swim… Amberpaw lived for these moments of solitude to challenge herself. Every so often, Stormpaw would accompany her, but for the most part, the lazy furball preferred to sleep in.

A loud cry split the air. Amberpaw was startled out of her thoughts. She paused, treading water, pricking her ears toward the sound. Did she imagine it? A strange sense of foreboding brewed in her stomach.

Up ahead, a large mass of land split the water. The Island – had she really swum that far? The fallen oak, mighty as it was, stretched from one bank to the other. Amberpaw squinted through the rain. Teetering on the edge of the trunk were two small shapes, a lean gray figure shadowing them closely behind.

 _Kits,_ Amberpaw thought. _But what are they doing all the way out here?_

She narrowed her eyes to identify the figures as she padded steadily toward them. Through the clapping of the rain, she could hear the high-pitched cries of the kits. Their voices were filled with glee – they were laughing, taunting the warrior who stalked carefully to them. Amberpaw watched uneasily. Were they being pursued by an enemy warrior? She still couldn't make out which Clan they were from, but their lean frames suggested they were WindClan.

Amberpaw's heart gave a lurch of horror. As she watched, one of the kits lost its grip on the slippery bark and dropped like a heavy stone into the churning waters. Its littermate let out a squeal of terror. Amberpaw watched as the WindClan warrior hesitated, his muscles taut with horror as he steeled himself. Then he launched himself into the swells to pursue the kit. He thrashed wildly in the water, clearly not a RiverClan warrior. Amberpaw whipped her head wildly around to see if she could spot the kit. A high-pitched gargle sounded nearby her. Amberpaw spotted a tiny, dark package bobbing on the surface of the water beside her, a blackberry-sized paw lashing out from the foam.

She was almost certain that she could retrieve the kit, despite the worsening conditions of the water. She scanned the sky for signs of lightning in her proximity, then dove beneath the surface of the water. For just a few beats, Amberpaw's heartrate evened out in the stillness beneath the surface of the water. She could feel herself drifting away as she always did when swimming; the rest of the world suddenly seemed to disappear. Through stinging eyes, she could just make out the rapidly sinking shape of the kit. Its limbs flailed wildly – the kit was still conscious. With ferocious pulls of her limbs, she paddled down to the kit and firmly clamped her jaws around its tiny scruff, surging toward the surface.

The world burst back with jarring chaos when she resurfaced, the sounds rushing her ears. Water streamed down her throat; she coughed through the kit's scruff.

The stranger nearby noticed her and let out a shocked cry.

"Get away, he's not yours!"

Amberpaw scowled. That was not the reaction she was expecting. She strained her neck, unable to hold the kit above water. It gasped wildly as she lowered it back into the water and released her grip. Her tail snagged its body so it stayed close to her.

"Climb onto my back," she instructed.

Terrified, the kit hooked its claws into her pelt. They stung like tiny thorns as it weakly clambered onto her. Amberpaw felt the small weight bear down on her, but the distribution was much easier. She bobbed on the surface, waiting patiently as the kit scrambled between her shoulder blades and held on for dear life.

"All good?"

"Y-yes," the kit stammered.

"Okay, here we go."

Straining her muscles, she twisted and swam toward the Island, her body bobbing and floating with the waves. Her back legs paddled fiercely to keep her upper body afloat. Her paws churned the writhing waves powerfully. Thunder purred quietly above them as they clambered onto the shore. Amberpaw barely had time to catch her breath before she was arrested by a pair of wild viridian eyes. Before her stood the lanky, long-limbed warrior from the WindClan border patrol just a few sunrises ago. Her breath caught in her throat; she was once again taken aback by the intensity of the tom's gaze. They were calculating and unyielding; unfriendly but not hostile, fierce yet protective. They seemed to penetrate Amberpaw to her very core, stripping her down and exposing every vulnerability.

"Stealthkit!" a voice cried.

Behind him, a fluffy gray she-kit peered, her bright blue eyes wide with wonder and terror. "You stupid mouse-brain, I told you not to lean over so far!" she chirped wildly, hopping toward them on tiny feet. "Are you okay? Did you drown? Did you see StarClan? Are you –"

"Frostkit," the tom growled quietly. "Give him a minute to recover."

Amberpaw tensed as the tabby warrior approached, though he simply stretched his neck to carefully remove the kit from between her shoulder blades. The kit, however, leaned away from his touch and clung on for dear life.

"Stealthkit, it's okay. You're safe now, come down."

The kit shook his head emphatically, his claws digging deep into Amberpaw's pelt. The tom nudged him with his nose, but there was no prying him off of her. The half-drowned tomkit shivered violently, his eyes wide with shock.

The WindClan warrior sighed. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, though his tone was gentle.

Stealthkit said nothing, his tiny frame trembling beneath his soaked pelt.

"I think he's just in shock," Amberpaw mewed. "He should be fine so long as he's warm and dry in his nest as soon as possible."

"How would you know?" the warrior snapped. "Are you a medicine cat?"

Amberpaw flinched, but felt her temper up. "No, but RiverClan deal with this kind of thing all the time," she snapped. "Kind of an occupational hazard."

The tom scowled at her guardedly. Amberpaw forced the fur along her spine to flatten.

"He's fully alert and conscious," she went on, glancing back at Stealthkit. "He's shivering, but his lips aren't blue. He's cold, exhausted, and freaked out. But he shouldn't be in any real danger so long as you get him home as soon as possible."

"Hear that, Stealthkit?" the tom said. "Let's get you home to Brindlepool."

The kit shook his head again. Frostkit let out a frustrated whine. "I'm cold!"

"I'm happy to escort you all back to your territory," Amberpaw offered lightly.

The WindClan warrior bristled at this suggestion. "We don't need escorting! I can take them home myself." He stretched his neck forward to grab Stealthkit but the tomkit continued to resist fiercely. "Mouse-dung!" he hissed under his breath in frustration.

 _His piercing viridian gaze blazed from across the clearing at the Gathering, filled with a hatred she could not comprehend._

Amberpaw glanced around the Island clearing, ominously empty without the large throng of cats to occupy it. Less than a moon ago, this same tomcat had directed furious energy toward her. Here they were, still as much strangers as they were before, yet Amberpaw still detected overwhelming hostility toward her.

"Look, let me just help take them home. They need to be in their nest as soon as possible, so quit wasting time trying to salvage your stupid pride."

Anger flashed in his eyes. His lips curled with disgust. "Fine," he spat, his voice tight. "But the second his claws are pried from your pelt, I want you off our territory."

 _Fantastic,_ she thought to herself. Amberpaw felt a rush of anger. "You're welcome," she growled under her breath.

The gray tabby narrowed his eyes. "I would've gotten him myself."

"Please," Amberpaw snorted. "You're lucky I didn't have to save your sorry tail along with him."

The lean warrior's whiskers twitched; a ghost of amusement crossed his face, but just for a second. He rolled his eyes. "RiverClan warriors think they're _so_ superior the second anything gets a little damp."

"Well, WindClan warriors think they're superior when it comes to _everything._ "

The tom let out a sneering huff, then scooped up Frostkit and positioned her between his own shoulders. He carefully ensured she was settled before stalking toward the tree bridge and crossing cautiously. Once they reached the other side, they moved swiftly toward WindClan territory. He hastened his speed, as though eager to shake her off, but Amberpaw was determined to match his pace.

"Jaytalon," Frostkit whined in a trembling voice. "I'm cold."

"We'll be home soon enough," the warrior assured her in a gentle tone, but loud enough to be heard over the storm.

Amberpaw snorted, finding it somehow funny that the tom could so suddenly flip a switch from hostile to brooding. Suddenly, she hesitated. They had reached the marshy boundary that scored the border between RiverClan and WindClan territory. Ahead the trees thinned out, the earth rising up into rolling, unblemished hillsides. Amberpaw felt a thrill of fear and excitement as she stepped forward, crossing into the unfamiliar land, the unknown.

The sky exploded in electrifying light, so close that even Amberpaw's soaking wet fur stood on end. Out here, she felt exposed. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to flee back toward her own territory, in the safety and seclusion of the trees. Yet she did not want to show fear in front of this obnoxious warrior, who had not so much as glanced back at her once since they entered his territory.

"Jaytalon," a voice cried. "You found them?"

A very thin, long-limbed queen raced toward them, followed closely by a small white apprentice and a brown tabby tom. They skidded to a halt, their eyes wide with shock as they realized Amberpaw was there. The slender queen recomposed herself the quickest. She swept her gaze over the length of Amberpaw's body critically. With a skip of her heart, Amberpaw recognized the WindClan deputy.

"You're not alone," Deerspring said with a frown.

"Stealthkit fell in the lake," Jaytalon explained in a low voice.

"The lake?" Deerspring echoed, whipping around to face him. Her eyes darted analytically around Jaytalon's wet frame, before narrowing thoughtfully as she peered closely into his face. "Did you go after him?"

"She got to him first," he growled tensely.

Amberpaw flushed under the gazes of the WindClan warriors. "I just happened to be swimming nearby," she said.

"What do you mean, you just happened to be –"

"Gorsefire," Deerspring silenced the brown warrior, studying Amberpaw carefully. "What is your name?"

"Amberpaw,"

"Amberpaw…" Deerspring echoed thoughtfully. "You saved our kit?"

"The warrior code says no warrior should neglect a kit in pain or danger, no matter which Clan they come from," Amberpaw said quietly.

To her surprise, Jaytalon flinched at her words, a rush of emotions crackling like lightning. She glanced at him curiously – out of all the laws of the lake, Amberpaw found this one to be most pertinent. It highlighted the importance of valuing another's life, despite what blood ran through their veins or values they practiced. They may live separate lives on another land, but the innocence of youth should underscore the similarities beneath the surface of them all… right?

"Thank you, Amberpaw," Deerspring said in a slightly gentler tone. "We appreciate you holding up your end of the bargain in observing the warrior code. And," she swept her tail comfortingly around Stealthkit's trembling body. "for bringing him home safely. Not many warriors these days remember just how valuable every life is."

Amberpaw felt the WindClan tomkit's body relax at Deerspring's touch and his weight lifted as the deputy carefully plucked him off her shoulders. "He should see Thrushpelt right away."

"Thanks for your help," Jaytalon said, his voice noticeably less hostile.

Amberpaw blinked curiously at him. The gray warrior didn't meet her eyes, his shoulders sunken discontentedly, but he did not have the same edge as before. Where there once was deep resentment, now seemed to be replaced by exhaustion and almost confusion.

"And per the warrior code," Deerspring went on. "Feel free to help yourself to hunt for one piece of fresh-kill on our land before you return back to your territory."

A low growl bubbled in Goresfire's throat. Despite the thrill of excitement that coursed through her, Amberpaw could not banish Morningstar's disapproving expression from her mind. "Thank you," she said with a small smile. "But I really should be heading home now. My Clan will begin to wonder where I am."

The briefest glow of respect flashed in the enemy warriors' eyes. Deerspring dipped her head appreciatively. "Very well," she said. "WindClan is indebted to you, young warrior. Do you need one of us to escort you home?"

"I'll be alright," Amberpaw said. "Thank you."

"May StarClan light your path."

The young golden she-cat stood and watched as the WindClan patrol blinked gratefully to her and turned and melted into the heart of the moorlands. At the last moment, Jaytalon glanced back and struck her with those electric blue eyes.

With a deep breath of resolve, the young apprentice stepped forward and followed the slender warriors into the heart of the moorlands.

The sky above purred quietly, low and deep in its throat.


End file.
